


I can't buy her another dress!

by hobbeshalftail3469



Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Genre: Fashion Show, First Kiss, Gen, Ilsa looks stunning, Robin looks stunning, Scantily clad male models, Strike is jealous, charity fund raising, petulant sulky Strike, randy squaddies!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-22
Updated: 2018-08-22
Packaged: 2019-07-01 06:07:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15768153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hobbeshalftail3469/pseuds/hobbeshalftail3469
Summary: Piece of fluff based on post breakdown of Robin's marriage, Strike hasn't yet asked her, but has told Nick and Ilsa he'd like to. Ilsa and Robin take part in a charity fashion show and both look amazing! Strike gets jealous of the scantily clad male model who is escorting her on the stage and finally she confronts him.





	I can't buy her another dress!

“That reminds me, can I leave early on Friday?” Robin took a gulp from her wine, sitting across from Strike and Nick at the table in the pub. Ilsa made her way across with the next round.  
“Yeah, no problem….you got a date?” Strike asked, trying to sound jokey but seriously quite worried that he would miss his opportunity of asking her out following the divorce from her knobhead husband.  
“No, I’ve stupidly agreed to help at this charity fashion show thing at Ilsa’s place; need to be there early,” she shrugged.  
“You are doing a fashion show?” Strike almost choked on his beer. “I thought we were just going for dinner, Nick having conned us into buying 2 tickets for their table!” he glared at his friend.  
“No, we needed more people to help with the actual fashion show thing, so I roped her in,” Ilsa added.   
“It’s raising money for injured soldiers….you can hardly criticise that!” Robin retorted as Strike took another sheepish gulp of beer.  
“I think it’s a brilliant idea,” Nick added, “Robin’ll be great. It’s not that serious anyway, although there will presumably be a load of randy squaddies there too,” and he grinned rather pointedly at his best friend, who he knew full well had qualified for that description himself back in the day.  
“Oh, thanks Nick….glad you think it’s such a good idea…..cos your wife’s doing it with me!” and she raised her eyebrows at him as Ilsa wrinkled her nose and announced, “Surprise!”  
“In that case, whatever the tickets cost it’ll be worth it,” Strike laughed, draining his beer and starting on his next pint as amusement and merriment took over the table as they considered whether the event was going to deteriorate into the fashion show scene from The Inbetweeners, and whether any of the male participants would wander up and down the stage with one of their testicles on display.  
\-----------  
Strike and Nick had agreed to meet at the venue – Ilsa’s law firm chose a different charity each year and had several events, culminating in a huge dinner, fundraiser. Last year there had been a silent auction; this year there was to be a fashion show, but basically the main money was raised by the sale of the tables. Ilsa was expected to purchase one, but on this occasion neither Nick nor Strike had complained as the charity was supporting injured soldiers and was one of the ones which had supported Strike following his accident.  
The fashion show was taking place at the start of the evening so that everyone concerned could join the rest of the room for dinner and the entertainments afterwards.  
As predicted the room was a mixture of Ilsa’s work colleagues and their friends and able bodied and injured soldiers. It was a good mix and the others on their table; 4 army corporals; were up for a good time. Nick explained that the 2 vacant chairs belonged to Robin and Ilsa who were taking part I the show and they downed several drinks before the lighting went down and the compere began to introduce and give the general fluff about those taking part giving their time; and the audience being kind as none were professionals etc.  
The lights came onto the stage and music started thumping to announce the arrival of the first 4 ‘models’ – 2 females one of whom Nick recognised from Ilsa’s firm, and 2 quite buff, close cropped fellas who the army guys recognised, ‘whooping and whistling’ as they paraded down the cat walk. The atmosphere however was fun and supportive, and when all 4 paused, turned and removed their jackets there was a collective and encouraging ‘oooooooooh’ from the audience and a round of applause as they exited.  
Several more foursomes came along the runway before Ilsa and Robin’s turn. They were accompanied by 2 very tall, incredibly good looking army boys, much to Nick and Strike’s frustration and received copious wolf whistles and whoops as they made their way along the catwalk. Although, to be fair it could also be because their group was wearing a selection of ‘work out’ gear – Robin looked incredibly shapely in a cropped top and leggings with trainers, Ilsa had the same cropped leggings and a slouchy top, the 2 men were sporting short shorts and tight tees. When they reached the end of the stage Robin and her ‘partner’ engaged in a clearly practised bit of kickboxing ‘banter’ whilst Ilsa ‘kicked’ her partner to the floor and counted down 5 press ups by clicking off her fingers before they ran off stage, giggling.  
Nick and Strike exchanged smiles as they lead the whooping and applause.  
“Are they yours?” asked one of the squaddies, called Geoff, on their table.  
Nick nodded with a wry smile and raised his glass.  
“Jammy bastards!” came the response.  
The quartets began to take to the stage as the lighting and music changed, this time they were all wearing evening dress – the compere was quick to explain that all of the ladies gowns could be purchased after the event and that all proceeds would go to the charity. Strike took the opportunity to go and relieve his bladder, one of the other corporals from the table met him in the loo.  
“I believe we share a common feature,” he said as he urinated and Strike washed his hands.  
“I shudder to think, especially as you’re telling me this in the bog!” he chuckled.  
Corporal Anders, Barney, finished up and explained, “Legs…..both missing a chunk….IEDs…” he stated whilst washing his own hands.  
Strike raised his eyebrows and nodded, “Yeah? You still in post though I see,” he ventured.  
“Yeah, mainly in recruiting…..Lord knows why I’m an asset though; come join the army and have the lower part of your leg blown off!” he grinned.  
“Well, you and I can sit out the conga together later on mate,” and Strike shook his hand before heading back into the main room. He had toyed with having a fag, but thought Robin and Ilsa might be back on stage and he wouldn’t want to miss it….Ilsa would kill him!  
He took has seat and noticed that Nick had topped up their beers; he made a mental note to slow down the pace – alcohol and Robin wasn’t a good mixture and caused him to consider being a stupid fucker!  
The previous quartet left the stage and Ilsa entered wearing a navy gown with an incredibly lowcut neckline and ripples of soft fabric falling to the floor. Her hair was swept up and Nick took a sharp intake of breath, even Strike exhaled sharply, Ilsa looked stunning. Her army buddy joined her, dressed in a standard black tuxedo and they froze a pose as the spotlight switched to the opposite side of the stage and Robin stepped out.  
If Ilsa looked stunning then Robin looked straight out of the movies – Who Framed Roger Rabbit sprung to mind! Her dress was scarlet coloured, strapless and floor length, but was obviously highly corseted beneath as it also had a plunging ‘v’ almost down to her belly button and was fitted across her hips. Her hair was draped over one shoulder and her eyes were dark and smoky, her lips matched the shade of the dress.  
“Fuck me!” stated Nick, briefly forgetting himself, but his comment was lost in the general intake of breath around the room as Robin stood confidently, hands on hips as her army friend joined her.  
Strike was speechless. Jesus, he’d thought she had looked amazing in that green dress, but with her hair and make up, and the lights on her, she looked like an ethereal movie star.  
Eventually Strike was roused from his stunned silence by the increasing whoops and shouts as they made their way down the catwalk. Robin’s dress seemed to move of it’s own accord, and every step caused her tightly supported bustline to shift seductively from side to side. Her hips copied the action and almost made Strike miss the fact that the dress had a split which showed off one long, shapely leg, finished with a high, peep toed, red, satin shoe.  
The noise within the room was almost fever pitched. At the end of the catwalk Robin and Ilsa found the table where Nick and Strike were sat and flashed a powerfully seductive gaze their way. Nick wolf whistled and blew a kiss to his wife, who was trying unsuccessfully not to giggle on stage. Strike on the other hand was frozen; the goddess on the stage in the scarlet gown was staring at him and she winked; it was like that moment with Charlotte in the hospital all over again, because many at the tables were now starting to follow her gaze and find where it was directed, and on their own table Geoff and Barney Anders were nudging him and slapping his shoulders like a groom on his wedding night. He could hear faceless comments:  
“That lucky bastard!”  
“How did he pull her?”  
“Jesus, there’s hope for us all!”  
“Christ he’s sexy as fuck too!” (obviously this was from one of the other females at the tables!)  
Robin and Ilsa turned on the stage and placed their palms against the chests of their army escorts and sexily shimmied their hips and fingers downwards – all the more effective since neither of their dresses appeared to have a back section! They stopped at the waistbands of their hunky escorts and turned their heads, waggling their eyebrows, earning further shouts, wolf whistles and shouts of ‘Get ‘em off!’ from a few of the increasingly tipsy females.  
When they’d cleared the stage Nick turned to Strike,   
“Did they say those dresses were for sale?” he asked, “Jesus, Ilsa looked gorgeous……and I’m not even going there with your partner…..Christ Oggy, how the hell are you gonna get any work done on Monday?” and he slapped his pal on the shoulder.  
“Fuck knows…….” Strike shook his head, his eyes wide and struggling to see anything other than Robin’s sexy wiggle and the way she winked at him stood on that stage. I can’t buy her another fucking dress he thought!  
The compere on the stage announced that they were approaching the finale and that all models would take to the stage. The music of ‘Voulez vous couchez avec moi’ started up and the quartets began to make their way onto the stage, this time the army guys were clad only in tight black boxers and bow ties, sending the tipsy women on several tables into screaming ‘hen party’ mode. The female models were wearing a variety of nightwear and underwear and carried heavily decorated Venetian style masks to give a certain level of anonymity – floor length satin nighties, long kimono style robes, an incredibly brave women with a great figure was wearing a pale pink basque, but had teamed it with satin ‘hot pants’ and a long flowing robe, making her less obviously sexy, although receiving plenty of appreciative whistles – the worst comments and shouts however were directed at the poor guys! Ilsa appeared wearing a very glamorous floor length peignoir in black and silver lace (but she was wearing a black bra and pants beneath, so nothing was too revealing Nick noted) – he was however feeling incredibly like the cat that got the cream to see his sexy wife strutting her stuff and looking so confident and beautiful – even with her mask in front of her eyes, it was clearly her!  
And speaking of which, Robin then appeared wearing an all in one, wine coloured, lace catsuit they left absolutely nothing to the imagination. She had on impossibly high black stilettos and her unmistakable hair was in a simple pony tail. She carried her black velvet mask in the shape of a cat along the catwalk and joined the others at the end in their combined poses.   
Cormoran was in awe of her; there was a tiny amount more detail on the lace at crucial parts of her body, but basically the entire room could make out her shapely curves, and she looked amazing…..but also amazingly sure of herself, confident, happy and like she was having fun up there with her friend.  
Their army escorts began a carefully practised set of actions with varying levels of musicality – they managed to turn around in synch, but the hand on the backside (or hovering just above, Nick noted) was not quite so seamless. Strike noted with some alarm that although Ilsa’s guy clearly hovered his hand across her buttocks, Robin’s fella was doing no such thing and had his hand curved under the obvious cheek of her arse and she was giggling at him playfully on the stage. Strike twitched slightly in his seat, but mentally chastised himself; so what if Robin had found a guy who she was interested in…..Jesus, looking the way she did it wasn’t really a surprise that he was taking every chance he could with her! Given the chance he certainly would!  
All of the models struck a final pose – Robin had her heeled foot on the smooth, muscular chest of her dark, skinned squaddie – and the lights flashed, glitter canons went off and applause reached a crescendo.  
The lights came back up as the compere shouted above the general noise, thanking everyone, all the models, encouraging people to purchase the dresses and make bids on the bowties of the male models.  
Strike couldn’t take his eyes off Robin, she glanced over with her mask held up and stuck her tongue out at him as he grinned and hooked his thumb and finger into his mouth to let out a piercing whistle.  
Wow! How on earth could the night improve? Except that she was leaving the stage with the dark skinned army guy draped around her and kissing her cheek…..and she was going along with it, dragging her nails across his buttocks and back.  
Strike got up and went to the bar. He downed a whisky and asked for a second…..he’d fucked up and lost his opportunity….again! He’d been giving her time since she broke up from Matthew; neither of them had dated seriously, but he knew that Robin had been out for a couple of dates with a couple of guys…..and although he’d felt ridiculously guilty he also knew that neither had been serious; plus he’d enjoyed hearing her tales of how awful they’d gone and how rubbish they’d been at kissing – he’d made notes based on what she’d described!  
When he returned to the table – after a prolonged ‘feeling sorry for himself’ smoke – Robin and Ilsa had joined them. Robin still looked great, she was wearing a navy blue jumpsuit with thin straps and wide trousers which were fitted across her hips and a pair of strappy heels.   
“Hey!” she grinned, giddily, but noticed his slightly cool expression.  
“Alright….you look like you were having fun,” Strike offered as he swilled down his second whisky and petulantly twisted his chair slightly away from Robin’s.  
Nick and Ilsa were like newlyweds, absorbed in each other and discussing each detail of her performance on the stage. The other 4 members of the table had drifted off to find their colleagues and friends and Robin could feel her excited glow starting to fizzle out rather more rapidly than she’d envisaged.  
She thought she could see a visible response to her appearance on the stage, especially in that red evening dress; which she was in love with and would have bought if she didn’t already own one stunning evening gown.  
She’d had comment after comment of approval as she’d made her way from the dressing room area to her table and she was feeling quite buoyed. She’d thought that Cormoran had eyed her up a bit, she was certain he’d seen her wink at him…..did she have to make it more obvious that she fancied him?!  
“What the fuck’s wrong with you?” Robin snapped, trying to pull Strike around to face her, “Are you going to ignore me all night? Cos I can bugger off if you’d prefer!” she continued, real hurt in her voice.  
Strike huffed slightly, “I’m sure you can go and find someone else who’ll hang on your every word….you could start with that randy squaddie who was all over you on stage!” he retorted, rather louder and more harshly than he’d intended. Nick and Ilsa stopped their conversation and regarded their friends.  
Robin made a snort of laughter and shook her head, “It isn’t against the law for me to have fun, and anyway, at least he actually touched me….I’m not a china doll that needs pussy footing around you know!” and she left her seat and strode towards the bar.  
“Oggy? What the hell?” Nick exclaimed. “What did you say to her? She was great up there mate, at least you could have told her well done!” he shook his head, sometimes he was still amazed at his friend’s lack of understanding females!  
Strike dragged his large hand through his unruly hair and grunted in frustration.  
“Why the fuck didn’t I just say that instead of accusing her of flirting with that buff army dude?” he moaned, looking at the ceiling and reaching for the dregs of Nick’s pint, having drained his own.  
“Did you accuse her of coming on to Mike?” Ilsa asked wide eyed.  
“The model guy? Pretty much…I didn’t hide my frustration very well really,” he ruefully admitted, kicking his ‘good’ foot against the chair she’d vacated.  
Nick screwed up his face a little, “Oggy mate, she’s allowed to go after whoever she wants if you don’t ask her. If that Mike fella has shown an interest you can’t exactly blame him…..Jesus, she looked amazing….you did too babe, “ he directed the final comment towards Ilsa and pecked her nose.  
“I should go and apologise. She can go out with whoever she wants…..and she did look fantastic….I should at least tell her that,” he grumbled, still kicking his foot and pouting like an angry pug.  
He got up and loped off to find her.  
Ilsa whispered to Nick who wrinkled his nose and laughed at his friend’s retreating shape.  
Cormoran spotted Robin’s rose-gold hair easily. She was drinking white wine and being casually dismissive to the many ‘well dones’ and ‘you looked greats’ that were being thrown her way.  
She looked pissed off though, at least to Cormoran’s knowledgeable eye. He sidled up to her and felt her body stiffen and a slight huff as she recognised it as him.  
“Sorry Robin,” he stated as sincerely as he could. “You looked absolutely stunning up there,” he indicted for the bar staff to refill her wine and bring him another whisky.  
She opened and closed her mouth and huffed again….Cormoran knew enough to remain quiet; this was Robin’s ‘I’m trying to find the right way to phrase this’ routine.  
“I DID look stunning up there!” she eventually pouted.   
“Jesus Robin, of course you did. I couldn’t believe you were going to come off that stage and sit next to me….but if you’d prefer to go and sit with Mike I’m not going to stop you….go ahead, it’s no problem….I want you to be happy and have fun….it doesn’t matter that it isn’t with me,” he smiled slightly, trying to reassure Robin of his feelings.  
“What the fuck? Cormoran?! Mike’s gay……were you jealous?” her eyes widened as realisation dawned on her, “You, Mr Cormoran Blue Strike, you were jealous of another man groping my arse….admit it!” she poked him pointedly on the lapel as he rolled his eyes and prayed for the ground to open up and swallow him.  
He downed his whisky and shook his head as Robin giggled beside him – her third wine starting to take effect.  
“You were jealous!........... Why were you jealous Cormoran?” she breathed into his ear.  
Strike sighed….he’d fucked it up enough without telling her….how much worse could things get if her actually admitted how he felt? Fuck it….she’d winked at him from the stage, looking like a goddess and he really, really liked her….now of never he thought.  
He turned towards her at the bar, cupped her face in his hands and brought his lips to hers, stifling a slight sob from Robin before she returned his kiss, parting her mouth so that their tongues could graze against each other.  
“That’s why!” he whispered as he pulled away. “Is that OK?”  
Robin smiled and nodded, “You were soooooo jealous!” she purred, encircling her arms around his neck.  
“You were soooo sexy!” he replied, grinning back and looping his arms around her waist.  
“Mike’ll be the jealous one now,” she continued, giggling and nibbling at Strike’s bottom lip, “He fancied you!”  
“He’s not my type…..he’d look rubbish in a red evening dress!” he grinned, burying his head in her hair and neck as he’d longed to do for years.  
The quartet of corporals from the table passed by – clearly they’d thought Cormoran had been kidding when he’d said the woman in the red dress was with him – but they whooped and hollered in a somewhat typical but endearing army style as they broke apart.  
“Aren’t you going to introduce me?” Robin asked, giggling.  
“Erm yeah…..everyone…., this is my Robin,” he smiled and returned the happy nod Robin gave him before she was engulfed by the sweaty embraces of 4 randy squaddies who couldn’t believe their luck!


End file.
